


made these for ourselves

by consumptive_sphinx



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, Photography AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 04:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13628514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consumptive_sphinx/pseuds/consumptive_sphinx
Summary: Tyelperinquar hasn’t been sleeping; he tries to hide it, and does an admirable job, but he isn’t quite good enough at makeup to conceal the bags under his eyes. He doesn’t show Curufin his work anymore, calls his photography projects private and won’t let Curufin see the results.Curufin does not bring it up with Tyelperinquar, but he mentions it to Celegorm, who laughs and agrees to speak to Tyelperinquar, which is satisfactory enough.





	made these for ourselves

Dinner is awkward. Dinner is always awkward; this is true when it’s only Curufin and Celebrimbor and even more so when Finrod and Celegorm join them.

Curufin, as always, focuses toward Finrod like a vine angling for sunlight. Celebrimbor tries not to watch the way their eyes find each other or the way Curufin’s hand can’t be anywhere but on Finrod’s thigh, but he doesn’t quite succeed; he never does.

Finrod keeps up conversation as well as he can, though he’s clearly forcing the words out of his mouth. Celebrimbor barely hears his own voice, let alone anyone else’s, but he tries to respond, if only so that there will be something at this table other than blank silence.

It ends, as awkward dinners with Finrod and Celegorm always do, with Celegorm deciding that it should end now, and getting up and leaving. Celebrimbor follows him and leaves Finrod and his father — still too close, still angled toward each other, Curufin’s hand still on Finrod’s knee underneath the table — behind.

* * *

Celegorm stays in Celebrimbor’s room after dinner.

It’s probably — not certainly, Celebrimbor could just be imagining the tension that has hung between them for months now, but probably — a bad idea. Not that that will matter to Celegorm, of course. Celebrimbor stands in the doorway for a moment before deciding that it doesn’t matter to him either.

“Uncle,” he says. It’s a warning as much as it is a greeting, and a warning for himself as much as it is for Celegorm.

“Tyelpe,” Celegorm says. Perhaps he’s trying to sound neutral, but Celegorm has never sounded neutral about anything in his life and this is no exception.

They stand there awkwardly, facing one another. “Fuck it,” Celegorm eventually says, and steps forward towards Celebrimbor. “This is a bad idea, do you care?”

“No,” Celebrimbor says, and pulls Celegorm’s face downwards and kisses him squarely on the mouth.

* * *

There is something wrong with Tyelperinquar.

It is not quite obvious, or wouldn’t be, to someone who didn’t know him well. But Curufin knows his son, and Curufin can tell that something is wrong, even though Tyelperinquar does not speak of it and tries to hide every sign.

Tyelperinquar hasn’t been sleeping; he tries to hide it, and does an admirable job, but he isn’t quite good enough at makeup to conceal the bags under his eyes. He doesn’t show Curufin his work anymore, calls his photography projects private and won’t let Curufin see the results.

Curufin does not bring it up with Tyelperinquar, but he mentions it to Celegorm, who laughs and agrees to speak to Tyelperinquar, which is satisfactory enough.

* * *

 _Snap._  Celegorm smiling with a mouth full of teeth into the camera, red light shining on one side of his face and blue light on the other, his teeth flashing white.

 _Snap._  Celegorm sitting in an armchair with his chest bare and his thighs spread out, mouth hanging open, the room lit in deep red.

 _Snap._  Celegorm lying on his side on Celebrimbor’s bed, his face in shadow but his hair golden in the lamplight.

 _Snap._  Celegorm lying on his stomach, sprawled out over a fake-fur blanket, the light falling on the muscles of his shoulders and the ridges of his spine.

 _Snap._  Celegorm’s hand and Celebrimbor’s, fingers interlaced. 


End file.
